


Indiscretion

by Glitch1 (The_Glitches)



Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers Prime
Genre: M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, PWP, Pervert Megatron, Sticky Sexual Interfacing, Teasing, cum kink, work fraternization
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-01
Updated: 2016-10-01
Packaged: 2018-08-18 19:35:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,820
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8173420
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Glitches/pseuds/Glitch1
Summary: Megatron just can't keep his hands off Starscream. Even during duty shifts.Mild dub con tag just in case.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Glitch2 (The_Glitches)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Glitches/gifts).



> A payment fic to Glitch2 for buying me dinner and then demanding some smut in return.
> 
> I like to think this is set some time after my Entangle series, where their strange 'relationship' is established, but you don't need to read that to follow.

Megatron enjoyed setting up Starscream. To fail or succeed, either one provided him entertainment. But lately, his manipulations had been not of a malicious kind, but a different kind. A thrilling kind.

Megatron strode leisurely through the halls of his warship, passing drones that saluted him on his way into the deeper interior. He turned an intersection and was admitted into a room. These were the drones’ workstations, hidden in the web of halls usually accessed by those that rarely saw the light of day. Today, however, Megatron had assigned an unusual workforce down there.

“How goes the cataloguing progressing, Starscream?” Megatron all but teased as the doors slid shut behind him.

The Seeker narrowed his optics in such a way it was borderline comical. Perhaps any other mech might have fled from the intensity, but Megatron consumed his anger. The drones working on neighboring consoles looked quickly down, suddenly very interested in their tapping fingers.

“You have given me _no_ reason for this groundless punishment!” Starscream growled, glaring at Megatron over his station monitor at the furthest corner. His angry optics followed as the warlord strolled over, taking his time. “This is menial labor! My talents are _wasted_ down here!”

Megatron clasped his servos loosely behind his back as he came to Starscream’s console, and looked down at the small flyer. “This is not a lesson of pragmatism, Starscream,” Megatron began with an airy, patronizing tone, which he knew irritated the Seeker. Starscream ground his denta in reaction, tickling Megatron’s amusement further. “Nor is it a punishment.”

“Then enlighten me, oh _Glorious Leader_ ,” Starscream all but hissed, wings tightening together irritably as he turned from the console to face Megatron fully. His stature was tiny in comparison, but he didn’t let it hinder his protest, in fact he took it as a challenge. “Why did you assign me away into the _bowls_ of the warship, to this _degrading_ work only fit for drones?”

Megatron waved a large servo across the console. “Continue your work, Starscream, and you will see.”

Starscream growled at his lack of answer, wings twitching with unexpressed anger. He hesitated, clearly deciding whether he should argue some more, but turned back to his station with another growl. He had become quite bold in his behavior towards Megatron, ever since their strange relationship had begun. And Megatron had found himself allowing it, looking forward to it even. Starscream was an endless source of entertainment, but he had been allocated a certain amount of backchat because of the treatment he underwent from Megatron. ‘Treatment’ being unbridled rapture and processor-blowing overloads. But Starscream was not the type to reap gratitude from such a thing, so he responded with casual insolence that only an ungrateful bondmate might get away with. Megatron allowed this because he found it amusing.

He stood motionless behind the Seeker, looming in his presence, reining back his EM field so that Starscream could feel only his gaze on the back of his helm. He watched the Seeker clench his talons before jabbing at the command panels, pulling up immaterial items from the warships inventory onto the screens before him. The item was then assigned an identification number and a date stamp, but as Starscream continued his work Megatron’s focus shifted from the monitor to his Second. He watched and waited, noting the times Starscream shifted on his pedes or threw a glare over one shoulder. Eventually Megatron’s inaction began to crowd him, demonstrated by the pull of his wings as they drew together slowly, his disquiet clear. Drones in the room had stopped stealing unnerved glances and had grown used to Megatron’s presence, though the stiffness in their plating remained. They came and went as they finished their duties, until there were only two on the other side of the room. Megatron made his move.

“Come, come, Starscream,” he goaded as he stepped into Starscream’s personal space. “Can you not work quicker than that? You _are_ the fastest Seeker, are you not?”

Another angry growl rose from the slim mech’s vocalizer. “What use is haste if the work is inconsequential?” He snapped.

“It’s a matter of principle, Starscream,” Megatron said, dropping his voice just a notch. He lowered his helm close to the Seeker’s head. “Take _pride_ in the work you do,” he rumbled, his volume receding even more, until his words were ghosting intimately along Starscream’s temple. The Seeker froze. “No matter how insignificant it may be.” A servo followed the lull of his voice and cupped the Seeker’s small aft.

Starscream jumped, flustered, but recovered automatically and quickly glanced at the drones. They either hadn’t noticed, or did not realize what was happening behind Starscream’s high console, Megatron’s actions concealed by Starscream’s frame. He attempted to spin around and confront his groper, but Megatron had boxed him in against his own station, pinning him. His wings gave an anxious flick. “ _Don’t you dare_ ,” he ground between his denta, so quietly only Megatron could hear him. Only Megatron could hear the impertinence.

“Your lack of respect has always been your downfall,” Megatron said loudly, straightening up. But instead of removing his servo he slid his fingers down to the invisible seam of his valve panel. Starscream stiffened. “It seems you need a lesson in obedience, as well.” He began to rub two digits.

Starscream’s frame jerked, pressing into the edge of his workstation in a futile attempt to lean away from the touches. “It was _obedience_ that brought me down here to this miserable task,” he managed to retort, his response an attempt to appease Megatron’s megalomania and spare him any potential humiliation. His response was poor, though; laced with his usual conceit. It earned him no reprieve.

“Obedience would have you accept your duties without complaint,” Megatron argued back, enjoying their verbal exchanges as much as he did their physical ones. He scraped the tips of his fingers gently along the Seeker’s panel, slowly repeating a trace back and forth.

Starscream dug his talons into the console, gripping the edge and unintentionally pressing down panel keys. The console beeped negatively at him, but he ignored it and tried to fend off the gladiator’s hand.

Megatron took his wrist in his other hand, halting his attempts. He pinned him harder. “Fix your work, Starscream,” he commanded lowly. From the corner of his vision he saw a curious drone look up from his console.

The Seeker half growled, half grunted, glancing at his screen – and did a double take. His blunder with the keys had accessed a deletion option, and his cataloging was in danger of being lost. He made a noise between his denta as he wrenched his arm free and quickly tapped away at the console again – only to arch his back as those wicked fingers ran a teasing length up his spine and straight to his wings. He caught a gasp before it could escape, but a noise fled from its place all the same. He froze immediately, optics on the drones with a paranoid stare. Neither eradicon was looking. Megatron’s fingers wiggled into his wing joint and Starscream keened, unable to hold it back.

“ _No_ ,” he hissed quietly. “Not here…” He bit back another groan as the sensitive wings were deliberately stimulated. The warlord knew exactly which sensor clusters to ignite that would light a fire in the Seeker’s frame.

“You work slowly,” Megatron said, more to the room than to him. “At this rate you will be here for days.” With emphasis on his last word, he clawed at the seam to Starscream’s right aileron.

His Second shuddered, spine snapping into an arch even as he held back his moan. The computer beeped again. “N-not if I have no distractions!” He barked, holding on to his composure with considerable strength.

“You consider my presence a distraction?” Megatron demanded with false severity, roaming his servo along Starscream’s thruster casing, down to the rim where he teased and tickled the edging. “How can you expect to continue your position beside me as my Second if you cannot concentrate?”

Starscream attempted to respond but all that came from his vocalizer was, “Aahh –”

Both drones looked up. Something flared excitedly within Megatron’s spark. He felt Starscream straighten, trying to appear collected for the lower class even as Megatron fingered his spinal struts. His SIC shot a well-gathered glare at the two drones and they quickly looked back at their stations. Starscream no doubt hoped they assumed Megatron was inflicting pain and physical punishment. He would rather _that_ than they assume the truth; officer and lord fraternization. He could not let the drones see him in such an undignified position, a plaything of their warlord. His pride could not handle that. Yet Megatron craved the thrill of discovery, found the risk of being seen exhilarating. He wanted the entire ship to know the Seeker belonged to him, that he could have the untouchable Starscream. And yet at the same time, he knew this secret was best _kept_ a secret. He could think of no benefits and plenty of disadvantages to their exposure. But he could not stop his rashness.

Without another thought, he drove his fingers back down to the Seeker’s warm aft, sliding them under to rub insistently at the closed panel, following the jerk of the small frame. Almost two seconds later, against Starscream’s best attempts, the panel retracted, audible only to Megatron. He found his prize with a pulse of desire, and with no time wasted, he skimmed two digit pads over the slickened valve.

A vent of air flew from Starscream’s fans as a strangled whine rose from his intake. His thighs pressed together and his wings twitched sporadically, displaying his agitated state despite his hardest efforts to look calm in the presence of the drones. Megatron took it as a personal challenge. He tapped his fingers teasingly against the Seeker’s exterior node, and was rewarded with a sharp, sudden keen that fed the flame in his circuits. Starscream tried to twist away, tightening his thighs together, but Megatron’s hand followed. He was undoing the Seeker’s composure quickly, and it was firing the gladiator up.

Movement across the room drew both their attention as one of the drones signed off from his console and left the room. The door was loud in the precarious quiet, and as Megatron never ceased his ministrations, he glanced down to watch the look of concentrated effort upon Starscream’s face. His lip plates were clamped together, optics shuttering closed and hands balled into fists as he fought his own reactions. The sight was enough to bring Megatron’s fans to the brink of activation.

“Has your processor crashed, Starscream?” Megatron provoked loud enough for the single drone to hear. “Your work has stalled.” He started circling the Seeker’s twitching valve, fingers already coated in lubricant. “Perhaps I assigned you too great a task.”

The look he received over a shoulder pauldron was enough to bring a wide smirk to Megatron’s face. Through the interface protocols now cycling his system, Starscream managed a very heated, very lustily furious expression. Enough playing, Megatron wanted the real game. Within the next second, he slid one finger easily into the jet’s tight valve.

Starscream jolted. But credit where credit was due, he did not make a sound. He did, however, pierce the console with his sharp talons as they latched onto the panel. The sound of cracking metal must have drawn the drone’s wary gaze, for when Megatron looked across he quickly dipped his helm once again.

“How do you expect to return to my good graces when this is all you have to show me?” Megatron began teasingly, his tone masquerading as stony formality. “I expect you to try _harder_ –”

Starscream gasped as Megatron grazed an erogenous node within his valve, legs buckling. If not for the support of the gladiator’s large palm, he would have sunk to the floor. His crumbling composure was like energon to a starved Megatron; he wanted to see more, he craved the chase of Starscream’s breakdown, when he could no longer keep quiet. With a quick, expert rub, Megatron stroked the Seeker’s node.

“Gah!” Starscream’s jolted hard, wings surging upright, displaying his aroused state to anyone who knew how to read them. The drone probably didn’t, but he would have certainly been confused by the sound issuing from the Commander’s vocalizer.

Without a pause, Megatron began sliding his finger in and out of the drenched valve, purposely catching sensitive lining with a fingertip. “You are defying my orders, Starscream. My expectations. Must you rebel with every task?”

“M-Megatron,” Starscream choked, shuddering continuously as overcharge stormed through his frame. His deadly talons impaled the console. From his higher stature overlooking the Seeker, Megatron caught him glancing desperately to the drone, hoping against hope the eradicon didn’t know what was really happening. 

As if uncomfortable with the unknown activity behind Starscream’s console, the drone stepped back from his station with a log-out beep, moved a little too quickly to the door, and was gone within the next few seconds.

As soon as the door had sealed shut, Megatron dropped all mercy. He shoved his finger into Starscream, shunting him across his workstation as his entire frame shook with the gladiator’s treatment. The Seeker pressed his face into the surface and finally let loose a loud, robust moan, followed by noises so lewd Megatron’s fans jumped to their middle settings, his body already burning.

Megatron pushed another finger inside him, reveling in the sight presented below. Starscream’s pose was submissive, yielding and debilitated with stimuli. The warlord’s spike was out and pressurized in record time, reaching for the Seeker’s proffered rear.

Without warning, Megatron retracted his digits, picked the slim flyer up easily and turned him around, positioning him up on the console, legs spread and valve on display.

Starscream groaned, but he was still lucid. He planted a palm against the large chassis. “W-wait. Someone might still come in!”

Megatron grinned, standing himself snugly between Starscream’s legs, spike arching over the Seeker’s codpiece. “I intend to,” he hissed lustfully. And without another beat, took himself in hand and impaled his Second in one, smooth slide.

“Gaaghh!” Starscream threw his helm back as Megatron’s powerful servos held his hips down. His valve twitched, adjusting around Megatron as it compensated for the extreme intrusion. But it was used to this. Starscream’s frame had adapted to the size, and what once would have been painful was now _more_ than pleasurable.

Knowing this, having been keeping himself aware of the Seeker’s adjustment period, Megatron wasted no time setting a rough, deep pace, pursuing their pleasure with powerful thrusts. He felt his length fill the small frame completely, edges catching swollen nodes, granting them both waves of bliss.

“Meg-Megatron,” Starscream panted, voice strained with charge. His sharp talons had found purchase on the console once again. With fans whirring away, charge crackling between them, and his valve clenching around the huge spike, Starscream was almost at his end. His wings beat against the erroring monitor screen, limited in space to move.

Feeling the calipers squeeze erratically around his spike, Megatron plunged in and stilled, delaying the smaller mech’s overload.

Immediately Starscream whimpered at the loss of movement, frantic for just a few more thrusts to finish his climax and expel the excess charge. He writhed in Megatron’s grip, clawing at the iron hold on his waist. “Agh! Just finish me!”

More than a little affected by those words, Megatron felt his hips comply on their own. He gathered his restraint once again, just enough to postpone a few seconds more, and then let loose. With built-up vigor, he rutted into Starscream like a mech on a mission, slamming him against the screens as he jerked the slim flyer back and forth. Moans and cries filled the air as Starscream was reduced to a squirming mess.

And then he bowed so beautifully as overload claimed him, Megatron was forced to watch by his own fasciation. A river of transfluid escaped, trickling onto the panel below as the gladiator continue to plough into him, his efforts doubled as the Seeker’s walls contracted around him, pulling him in with suffocating tightness – until the sensation overwhelmed Megatron’s sensor net and his own end bulldozed through him. He wrenched Starscream to meet his returning thrust, burying himself as deep as possible as his overload rendered him momentarily paralyzed. His transfluid erupted inside the Seeker’s valve, so deep he was sure he had penetrated the Seeker’s interior chamber seal. It wouldn’t be the first time.

Within seconds his release had come to an end, and his senses slowly returned from their temporary vacation. When he finally looked down, Starscream was just looking up, heavy optics vibrant, mouth plates parted, wings flush against the screen and flared attractively. Megatron would never admit it, but he enjoyed these moments much more than he wanted to. Starscream was sometimes docile and receptive after overloading, an effect of his coding, but it quickly disappeared. Megatron had begun to take advantage of this short time window.

He curled a broad servo across the Seeker’s cockpit, stroking firm lengths along the hot, damp glass. In reaction, Starscream gave a shallow arc and his wings fluttered briefly. But it was what Megatron was after; the gesture satisfying some part inside him. Starscream refrained from this display when he was sober (save for one public flutter), and Megatron had come to realize it was a sub-conscious gesticulation among flyers. Depending on the situation, it could mean different things, but here Megatron understood it as contentment. Satisfaction. That was a job well done on Megatron’s part.

With the buzz dissipating from their minds, they took in the mess of the console. Starscream attempted to shift out of Megatron’s grip, but when the warlord refused to release him he looked up questioningly.

Something perverse crossed Megatron’s thoughts. “The cleaning drone will be very curious about this mess,” he gleamed, indicating the threads of translucent lubricant shining on the console. Before Starscream could reply, Megatron shifted, pulling him closer off the edge, tilting the Seeker’s hips up with his spike still seated inside. “Let’s not give them even more spillage to mop.” He paused a beat, enjoying the frown on his partner’s face, and lowered his own to hover intimately above Starscream’s. “When I withdraw from your frame, you will _close_ your panel without delay…”

A fresh surge swept up from Starscream’s EM field as he realized what Megatron wanted. “ _What_?” He breathed, the lust and overload robbing him of volume. “I am not… not a _receptacle_ for your sick pleasure!”

“ _Without delay_ ,” Megatron repeated, smirking. “I don’t want to see a _drop_. Understand?”

Starscream gaped at him. Understand dawned on him why Megatron had elevated his hips.

“ _You_ will clean this console if you don’t,” the warlord whispered.

And just as Starscream geared up to retort, Megatron leaned back, his spike slipping free from the Seeker’s slick valve, a tendril of transfluid bridging their equipment before parting.

“ _Close_.”

Almost against his will, Starscream’s valve cover slid back across, concealing his entrance. Megatron’s servos kneaded his thighs, almost rewardingly, his gaze locked onto the Seeker’s. A thrill rushed through Megatron, surprised by how little Starscream had retaliated. Perhaps he was not as prudish as he wanted to be.

Without warning, he picked the flyer up by the waist and hefted him down onto his pedes. Starscream gave a strange gasp as gravity orientated things within him. His wings gave a slight tremble, low and unsure, and his knees turned inwards. The sight was enough to stir Megatron’s spike again. He quickly retracted it and his codpiece transformed back into place.

“I – I can’t walk around with…” Starscream stuttered, embarrassed. “Like _this_.”

A bolt of desire flew through Megatron as he envisioned just that. But no, that would be too distracting, and he had no doubts the continuous sight would leave him with his _own_ problem. It really wouldn’t do if the troops witnessed their leader with a pressurized spike. No.

“You are relieved of duty for the remaining shift,” he said. “Return to your quarters.”

“I’m not moving with – with your _fluids_ inside me!”

Megatron allowed his smirk to widen. “Then stay here, and help the cleaning drone when he arrives.”

Starscream barred his denta and growled. His wings hitched a little higher, presenting his annoyance, but they were still low and wide, exhibiting his sustained arousal. He came to the smart decision; returning to his quarters would give him the chance to clean and relieved himself of his … payload.

“Are you just going to _stand_ there and watch?” He snarled mildly, after-coding robbing the bite to his words. He edged past Megatron, steadying himself on the ruined console as he shifted. His expressions were very pleasing to watch.

“Of course, where are my _manners_?” Megatron mocked lowly. He scooped the Seeker into his arms none too gently, reveling in the second gasp as momentum repositioned things. Then he strode towards the door.

“Put me down!” Starscream thrashed, scandalized and furious. He did _not_ appreciate being picked up like a lightweight, something the gladiator had always known. “I will slagging _kill_ you!”

No sooner had he said it than Megatron was already at the opening door. He crossed the threshold and deposited the Seeker back onto his own legs. Starscream stiffened at the sensation, his rebukes forgotten.

“Now I will watch.”

Starscream shot another, death-promised glare. The intensity was dropped as movement drew both their attentions. A drone was approaching from the end of the corridor.

Megatron smirked inwardly. An audience. Perfect. “Return to your quarters, Starscream.” He ordered loudly. “You are off duty until I deem you are fit to return.”

The Seeker’s wings trembled at the thought of having to walk in his current state, in front of a lower class. But the warlord could provoke unwanted curiosity if he didn’t move, and Starscream would go to any lengths to avoid suspicion. He started forward, a purpose stride, but it was clear the roll of his hips was causing foreign sensations within him, and his proud, defiant posture soon leaned forward, until he reached the wall and used it to guide his way as stiffly as possible.

The drone reached their intersection, cast a curious look between the two officers – his face lingering in Starscream’s direction – and then quickened his pace to round the far corridor. Megatron was almost disappointed he did not enter the room behind him. When the sound of his presence was gone, all that filled the air were the sounds of Starscream’s pedes shuffling.

“Perhaps I will visit you _later_ ,” Megatron called after him as the Seeker reached the corner. “We can resume our conversation on your…insubordination.”

All that responded, as he disappeared from view, was a distinct ‘Starscreamy’ growl.

Megatron grinned.


End file.
